Chapter 257

William Johnson's dinner was a meticulously orchestrated performance.

He deliberately cut his steak into a heart shape and drew a smiley face on the napkin with red wine. Emily Smith ate her salad expressionlessly, ignoring his childish antics.

The hospital corridor lights stretched their shadows long and thin.

The door to Amy's room was slightly ajar, the steady beeping of the heart monitor faintly audible. When they entered, Nurse Green was wiping Amy's hands and immediately stood upon seeing them.

"Mr. Johnson, Miss Smith."

Emily's gaze settled on her sister's face. Amy's eyelashes cast delicate shadows under the light, her lips no longer as pale as before. Emily reached out and took her sister's hand, the warmth sending a tremor through her chest.

"Her temperature is normal now?"

Nurse Green nodded with a smile. "Since last week. The doctor says it's a good sign."

Emily glanced toward William by the window. The man was flipping casually through the medical records. Sensing her gaze, he looked up and arched a brow.

"Thank you for your hard work, Nurse Green," Emily said, withdrawing her hand. "The medical expenses—"

"Paid through the end of the year," William closed the file. "Including the upgrade to the private suite."

Emily's grip tightened on the bed rail. The cold metal seeped into her palm as she suddenly noticed how much more spacious the room was—now with an imported ventilator in the corner.

"I'll pick you up in half an hour." William checked his watch and turned to leave.

As the door clicked shut, Nurse Green hesitated. "Emily, actually, Mr. Johnson—"

"I know." Emily cut her off, gently smoothing her sister's hair. "He's always been good at winning people over."

The car ride back was thick with cologne and silence.

Emily rolled down the window, letting the night wind tangle through her hair. Without warning, she turned to William. "Let's go to the hotel."

His fingers paused on his loosened tie.

"So eager?" His low chuckle carried no warmth, his eyes icy.

Emily swung a leg over his lap. The motion was so familiar that William instinctively steadied her waist. Her silk shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of pale skin.

"One last time, and we're even." She leaned down and nipped at his throat.

William seized the back of her head. The kiss was punishing, the taste of blood mingling with the wine on his tongue. Emily recognized the flavor—he'd deliberately used her glass at dinner.

When his hand slid beneath her shirt, she shuddered. Her body, untouched for so long, betrayed her instantly, every inch of skin crying out for more. Just as she arched into him, William pulled away.

"See?" His thumb swiped across her damp lips, his voice rough. "Your body is far more honest than your mouth."

Emily realized her fists were clenched in his shirt. She jerked back, but William pinned her wrists to the leather seat.

"Beg," he breathed against her ear. "And I'll give you what you want."